Her eyes lifted. “I’m not.”
“You are,” I replied.
She sighed and leaned back slightly. “Fine. I’m trying to be professional.”
“You can be professional and still breathe.”
A tiny laugh escaped her, surprised.
It hit me hard.
God, she was beautiful when she wasn’t scared.
We talked over dinner. Not just about the gala. About small things. Olive’s obsession with perfect fonts. Ryder’s ego. Jasper’s habit of eating like he was still a teenager with a metabolism that never quit.
Aspen started smiling more. Her eyes lit up when she talked about the girls. When she described Holly’s dramatic homework meltdowns and Winter’s quiet stubbornness.
And the more she talked, the more I realized something that should’ve been obvious.
She wasn’t naive.
She was young, yes. But she wasn’t naive.
